


"I'd Never Stoop So Low,"

by Lion (littlelionbigheart)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, GTA, Grand Theft Auto V - Freeform, Grand theft auto, Michael De Santa - Freeform, gta v - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelionbigheart/pseuds/Lion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the big bright city of Los Santos, you find yourself tangled up with three extremely odd men who make their living doing very illegal things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I'd Never Stoop So Low,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue - Reader x Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: in this fanfic, things mostly follow the plot of gta v, but amanda ends up divorcing michael rather than trying to repair things with him.

You lived a pretty laid back life in Los Santos. You had a decently spacey apartment on the corner of Alta Place and Spanish Avenue. You worked at a Los Santos Customs just off of Hawick, and things were good. You made good money- it seemed surprising at first the amount of nearly-totalled cars that went through the shop on a  _normal_ day. You were well known around the area, sometimes people called you the "car guru" just for fun.

You weren't really anything special- no better than any of the other employees at the shop. There was a pretty good chance that it was because you were the only girl who worked on cars in that area, and most of the other mechanics had been men. A typical day, for you, went like this;

4 a.m. - Wake up, have a shower.

4:30 a.m. - Eat breakfast and make coffee.

5 a.m. - Head out for work.

5:10 a.m. - Get to work.

11 a.m. - Lunch break, then back to work.

10 p.m. - Go home to eat dinner.

11 p.m. - Go to sleep; repeat schedule.

You almost always worked overtime. There would be people who normally worked 7am-9pm, and then others who worked their shifts from 7pm-9am. You worked hard to become well known, and wanted to one day have your own franchise of Los Santos Customs. 

It was one of these "normal days", around 5 a.m. that you pulled up to the shop. You were still a bit tired from the night before, having worked a little bit harder than you should have. You noticed one of the lights in the lot flickering, before your eyes settled on a beat-up black Sedan sitting in one of the parking spots. The headlights were on, as well as the lights inside of it, and you could see a man probably in his late forties reclined in the driver's seat.

You parked your own car and got out, making your way to the black car. You gently tapped on the window, and the man sat up, rolling it down. 

"You waiting on the shop to open?"

He nodded, clearing his throat. He was clean-shaven, and a bit heavier set than the average guy, but still looked in shape. He had stunning blue eyes which distracted you for only a second before he spoke.

"Yeah. I got in a bit of trouble earlier this morning and need her fixed up."

You shrugged, "Just give me a second and I'll let you in."

Waltzing over to the front of the shop, and fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing open the door off to the side of the larger, garage door. Setting down your keys on a nearby table, you pressed a switch on the wall, the garage door opening slowly. The man pulled in, and you finally got a better look at the car.

Your eyes widened and you let out a deflating whistle, muttering an impressed "wow" under your breath. The car looked like it'd been to hell and back, but that was almost an understatement.

Bulletholes riddled the body of the car, and multiple windows were smashed all to hell. The passenger's and rear passenger's door were dented pretty badly, and the trunk was nowhere to be found.

"What the hell were you doing in this car? Starting some shit down on Grove Street?" You said to the man.

"No, not on Grove Street." He said with a dim, tired laugh.

He stepped out of the car and you got a better look at him. He looked refined, wearing a dark blue suit that had been stained with... Blood. Whose blood? His?

"Uh, sir-"

"I know." He said softly. "I look like a mess. But going to the hospital wouldn't exactly be the best idea right now."

You nodded quietly and walked over to the computer. You had to make an estimate of how long it'd take, probably give the guy a rental, and a slew of other details.

"What's your name?" You queried, mouse hovering over a box that read 'Client Name'.

 

"Michael De Santa." He said coolly, "What's yours?"

"(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)."

You were putting in the other details about the car such as the license plate, year, make, model, colour, and a bunch of other crap when you paused. The box said 'Time Estimate'.

With a glance back at the car, you winced. It would take a little while, about a week if you worked on that car alone. But you knew you had other cars to work on, and it could take up to a month.

"I hope this isn't bad news, but this could take about a week to a, er... A month," you said, feeling the urge to explain why, "I've got a bunch of other cars to work on, and-"

You felt Mr. De Santa put something in your hand. When you looked down, you saw a hefty wad of cash lying in your palm.

"A week, you say?" He said calmly.

You nodded, trembling. There was quite a bit of money in your hand, and he was staring into your (E/C) orbs, as if expecting you to say something.

"Yeah, a week. I'll get right on it."

You turned away, putting the money in the register, but you noticed he hadn't left. You stared at him blankly before you realized he needed a rental, and in a blur of being flustered and embarassed you handed over the keys to a newer Sedan.

He smiled and thanked you, before leaving the shop.

Michael De Santa, you thought.

Interesting man.


End file.
